


Climb Every Mountain

by Schmuzz



Category: Good Omens (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, Freeform, M/M, destiel if you squint? i mean they do kiss so, more of a good omens fusion than a legit crossover, they at least have that queer platonic life partner thing going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmuzz/pseuds/Schmuzz
Summary: The demon gave him a wide smile full of white and slightly sharp teeth. “Aw, they just said to come up here and make some trouble. Anyway,” he glanced over his shoulder, down into the garden behind them. He leaned forward slightly, voice moving to a conspiring tone, “If He really didn’t want them eating it, you’d think He’d put it somewhere else, like on top of a mountain somewhere. Maybe the Grand Canyon.”“The what?” The demon waved a hand.“One of mine,” he said, and Castiel nodded. His brethren - even the now Fallen - had their hands in many of the Earth’s creations. Honey bees had been one of his.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	Climb Every Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> This literally came into my mind at one in the morning and I wrote it all out in one sitting. I love Good Omens and the SPN finale reluctantly sucked me in. This was great for me personally because I've watched Good Omens so many times I can just redo a lot of their conversations and try to shove Dean and Cas into the mix lmao. 
> 
> I'm marking this as complete, but I have some vague idea of how to continue things so if this piqued your interest please leave me a comment and let me know! :)

“Well,” the demon said, “that could’ve gone better.”

“Hm?” Castiel was watching the humans travel further and further out of sight, the flame of the sword illuminating them as the storm clouds drew nearer.

“I  _ said  _ that could’ve gone better.” 

“...Yes. I suppose so.”

“Can’t understand what’s so bad about eating an apple, anyway.”

“It must be bad,” Castiel said, glancing at the figure beside him. It was a man-shaped being, though the wings certainly gave him away. That, and the eyes. Castiel had yet to meet another member of the Fallen, though he presumed they were meant to be barbaric and near feral, intent on striking him down on sight. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have tempted them to do it.”

The demon gave him a wide smile full of white and slightly sharp teeth. “Aw, they just said to come up here and make some trouble. Anyway,” he glanced over his shoulder, down into the garden behind them. He leaned forward slightly, voice moving to a conspiring tone, “If He  _ really  _ didn’t want them eating it, you’d think He’d put it somewhere else, like on top of a mountain somewhere. Maybe the Grand Canyon.”

“The what?” The demon waved a hand.

“One of mine,” he said, and Castiel nodded. His brethren - even the now Fallen - had their hands in many of the Earth’s creations. Honey bees had been one of his. “Makes you wonder what’s going on in that celestial head of His.”

“Best not to speculate. One cannot argue the destiny that has been created for us, just like you cannot resist your ability to sow evil and destruction, nor my duty to thwart your attempts.” The demon looked at him as he spoke, and then out to the nearly vanished visage of the humans. 

“Give them your sword, did you?” Castiel stiffened. “Was that part of your grand destiny?”

“It’s a harsh world,” Castiel argued, “there are wild animals and she’s with child, I’ll have you know.” He dared a glance at the demon, expecting a rather awful smirk. Instead he was met with something else. Curious and appreciative - though the more nuanced emotions were yet to be discovered, even by a soon-to-be demoted Cherub like Castiel. 

The clouds that had been looming during the conversation were now overhead, and the demon hissed, moving inexplicably closer to Castiel, his wings drawn together as though to avoid the onslaught. Castiel knew this was rain - harmless, and rather important for much of Earth’s life, he had been told. It was possible the demon had already been kicked out of Heaven before the memos on that had been passed around.

Not thinking of it, Castiel raised his own wings and flared them high overhead, and the demon crept even closer, seeking shelter. 

When the storm moved on, the angel spoke. “I suppose you’ll be following them, making more trouble?” the demon looked embarrassed - this was an emotion that had been discovered rather quickly.

“Guess I have to - I’ll lay back though, for a while. Not so much fun just picking on the same bunch. And you?”

“They will be my charge, as will the other humans.” 

The demon nodded. “Then we’ll be seeing each other.” He shot another inscrutable look at Castiel, before flapping his wings and setting off - elsewhere. 

“Hm,” Castiel said to himself, staring out at where the humans had been - where they were going. 

-

Castiel had met other demons after that; they were hardly as pleasant as the first. They usually lacked human bodies, and when they appeared, it was with a stranger, animalistic visage. Sometimes they preferred to leave those bodies and possess those of regular animals, or of humans. Castiel had the power to cast them out and send them back to hell, or destroy them completely. 

The populations of humans grew over time, and they spread beyond the scope of the garden and the surrounding lands, usually to a river valley - the memo about the importance of water had been accurate. 

“Angel!” Castiel turned, hand where he kept his sword sheathed - it was a human made weapon, crude and certainly not set in an eternal flame, but it would do. Amongst the merchants and buyers of the village he saw a figure he recognized. 

“What do you want, demon?” Castiel asked, still holding to the hilt of his sword. The demon had changed to better fit in with humans as Castiel had; he had hidden his wings, and his eyes, too, had gone from endless black voids to a slightly more natural shape. One might be convinced that the man merely had very, very, dark brown irises, if you didn’t look too closely.

“Oh - nothing. I just thought I recognized you.” He fiddled with the rope tied at his waist. “Having fun?” 

Castiel surreptitiously looked around, trying to spot any other demons that may have been circling him, but they were alone. “Not especially.” 

The demon nodded. “Not much going on here, that’s why I was surprised to see you. I hear Mesopotamia is lovely this time of year.” 

Castiel nodded. “Until the flood.” 

“The what?”

Castiel frowned, he may have said too much. “I must be getting on,” he said, gesturing behind his shoulder to the dust-lined streets. “Goodbye.”

“What, angel, this village has like a hundred people. Where are you going?” Still, the demon didn’t follow. 

-

“So, the flood,” the demon said some time later. It wasn’t a village - it was too soon for new villages, in this part of the world. “Was that from God?”

“Yes,” Castiel said. The ground was still rather muddy. So much had changed. Only the demon remained the same, though he had the dark expression like the other Fallen Castiel would run across. He wondered if this would be the day that he would be forced to destroy this one too. “And the rainbow, as well.”

“Oh yes, they balanced each other out wonderfully,” the demon said, nearly spitting. 

“I get the sense that your words are not expressing your current emotions.”

“No shit, angel. Thanks for the warning, by the way. This body is not meant for being dipped in dirty flood water for forty days!” 

“My apologies.” Castiel had been on the ark, and it had been far from pleasant. The cramped space, the smells, the lack of polite company… He shuddered remembering it. And when they found dry land, and the water slowly evaporated or sunk into the ground, there was nothing left of the people who were there before, their lives swept away in the divine tide. 

Next to him, the demon sat heavily on a rock. “He really did it, then? Got tired of His most favorite creation, decided He wanted a do-over.” The demon shook his head. “There were  _ children  _ out there, you know.” 

“I know,” Castiel said, though he couldn’t think of anything else to say. The entire mess had weighed on him, though his brethren hadn’t seemed to have a hint of questioning the decision. He supposed questioning the plans of the Almighty was something befitting of a demon, but watching the creature stare at the plains of mud around them, at the complete lack of life here, he didn’t find much worth arguing about. 

-

They found each other in the crowd. Castiel was different, fitting in with the women who wept at the scene in the field. 

“Seemed like a nice man,” the demon said. “I showed him all the kingdoms of all the nations, you know.”

“That was  _ you? _ ” He had heard that story. “Why?” the demon shrugged.

“He’s a carpenter from Nazareth, figured the guy’s travel options needed a boost.” The screams echoed despite the open air, the sky growing darker. The demon winced. “What did he say to get everyone so upset?” 

Castiel licked his lips, pulling at his shroud. “‘Be kind to each other.’” The demon snorted.

“Yeah, that’ll do it.”

-

This time, Castiel spots him first. Rome had gone downhill since he had last visited, between the increasingly mad emperors and lack of humility the average citizen displayed. He had gone to this particular restaurant because most of the others on the street had been some sort of den of iniquity. 

“Hello,” he said, nodding meaningfully at the chair beside the demon. He looked like he had just come through from the northern regions, his hair and clothing horribly behind the fashion, and once more he looked like he was about to cross over the table and start a fight to the death with Castiel. Castiel, who hadn’t seen a demon in the last several decades, often forewent his sword. He only had a hopefully polite looking smile to arm himself with. When the demon merely turned his surly gaze back to the wine he was consuming, he gingerly sat at his table.

Usually the other was the one who began their conversations. He floundered for a moment. “So,” he began, “how’s the demon business, then?”

“What do you  _ mean  _ ‘how’s the demon business then?’ It's all murder, arson, and jaywalking. How do you  _ think  _ it’s going?” Castiel shrugged. “And I have a  _ name  _ you know.”

“So do I. I assumed we all had names.”

“Not at first - or I couldn’t remember. Had to make my own.”

“Oh.” He paused. “What is your name, then?”

“It’s Dean.” 

“I didn’t know we could do that.” Dean looked at him pointedly. “I’m Castiel.”

“Well, Castiel,” the de -  _ Dean  _ said, testing the words on his tongue, “what are you doing here? Doesn’t seem the place for someone holier than thou.”

“But I am holier than thou,” Castiel said, ignoring Dean’s sullen  _ don’t I know it  _ that he said into his cup. “I’m on my way out, I had to perform a few miracles. I hear Rome will not be standing for much longer.”

“Yep, that’s what I’m here for, though I don’t think Nero needs my help.” 

“You already tempted him.”

“No, he was off his rocker before I even got here,” Dean says, impatient again. “Don’t know why I’m here to be honest.” Castiel could admit to understanding the frustration - he wasn’t sure why he needed to remain in Rome if it was a lost cause, and some of his other assignments from Heaven would be puzzling in their priorities. He hadn’t voiced this to anyone, however, and thought it best to let Dean’s rant remain one sided. He merely held his fingers up, getting a server to bring more wine. 

After another pitcher slit between them, Castiel’s hazy eyes were watching other patrons splitting bread and other dishes. When he glanced back, Dean’s dark eyes were watching him, inscrutable again.

“Should we get something? I hear oysters are pretty good.” 

“We don’t need to eat,” Castiel said. Dean raised his cup and drained it.

“Don’t need to drink either, and even the Almighty’s son split bread.” Castiel took a sip of his wine - really, it should have been more watered down - and bit his lip. Dean was still watching him.

He ought to be moving on, from the little restaurant, from Rome, most certainly from a demon.

He shrugged. “Alright.” Dean smiled and raised his hand to flag a server down.

Castiel had enjoyed the bread and oil mixed with herbs. It took him some time to figure out how to swallow an oyster, however. He decided he liked them - it was just as well, as Dean grumbled about their slimy texture and pushed his portion over to Castiel to share.

-

Humanity as a whole and humans on individual levels begin to get more interesting from there on out. Castiel’s orders from heaven sent him across Earth, and he finds that somehow, against all probability and odds, humans have already beat him there, and despite all the heavenly memos and his own hand in creating some of the things they use and cultivate, their ingenuity surprises him. The floating farms the Mayans created and the gunpowder refined in China, the new languages, cuisine, and rather copious varieties of alcohol. There are stories that humans create, written down or spoken or sung. About gods and monsters, about epic adventures and about love and death, and there are jokes, too.

He doesn’t see his brethren so much any more. He doesn’t see demons, either. He knows they’re both there, performing miracles or sowing discontent, but humans are so insistent about going about things their own way that he wonders if their actions make a difference at all.

Civilizations form and crumble, inventions come into the collective consciousness, are improved upon or forgotten, rediscovered and used until society changes enough that they become obsolete. Buildings, culture, art, and even the alcohol changes - though not by much.

And through it all, the only constant he has is Dean. 

Dean who, despite being a demon - and a rather imaginative one at that, if his schemes are anything to go by - seems just as enamoured by humanity as Castiel is.

They still get drinks, sometimes. America was large and Castiel did try to move about as was needed, but they still saw one another. It was hard not to, given the thousands of years they spent running around, sometimes working opposing ends for their respective sides, pulling strings just to let humans do what they wanted to do anyway. 

“It’s all going too well,” Dean murmured into his bottle one Thursday night, sometime in the mid eighties. He was prone to sulks. Once he and Castiel had a fight right when Queen Victoria took reign and the man had gone off to who knows where, not emerging until the nineteenth century was over. There was also that time during the fourteenth century, though the less they dwelled on that, the better.

“What was that?”

“It’s going too well, don’t you think? This,” he waved a lazy hand at the bar around them. Castiel munched on a fry from the basket they had put between them. For all the interesting delicacies they had feasted on over the years, both of them had an extreme weakness for cheeseburgers and fries. Go figure. “It’s coming to an end soon.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Do you have inside sources?” Dean slumped back in his seat.

“No. It’s just a hunch.” He sullenly ate a fry, dark eyes on the sticky table top between them. 

“Hmm…” Castiel drummed his fingers on the table. “Could be nothing,” he said, trying to sound hopeful. You didn’t survive for thousands of years on Earth without honing an impressive sixth sense for trouble. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Could be.”

-

Still, there were whisperings. Castiel heard it from the angels that still came to Earth, and he imagined Dean would hear similar rumors: Armageddon was approaching. 

There were several ways about it, and from what Castiel understood, it would be Hell who would set the initial play in motion, so to speak. He, of course, would need to surveil any demons he came into contact with. His superiors often pointed out how lucky he was that one of Hell’s long term Earth agents had yet to spot him. Castiel wasn’t a creature that could lie by nature; luckily, Dean taught him everything he knew, and his superiors didn’t seem to expect anything was amiss. 

But they were still just rumors. Castiel had carved out a little place for himself in a suburban town in southern Illinois. He enjoyed children, and had been posing as a librarian for the better part of a decade in the town’s local library. A soft spot for younger humans was a weakness Dean also shared, though he seldom admitted it. 

Today, however, he was home. Tending the garden of the small colonial he had all to himself. He had been here long enough to even keep bees. They lazily buzzed around him as he pruned rose leaves and watered the bee balm. His radio in the kitchen was set in the window, the quiet sound of Debussy’s music fading into the background as he worked. 

Abruptly, the station fizzled out, getting replaced with the opening of Led Zeppelin’s  _ Ramble On.  _ Castiel looked up, spotting Dean at the back gate. They usually didn’t pay each other house calls - they tended to move frequently enough as immortal beings it was too difficult to keep an address, for one. They also didn’t like the idea of being found out by their superiors and getting severe disciplinary actions for fraternizing with the enemy. 

Still, there was something in his expression - he looked tired and pale, and so very alone, his dark eyes big and shining against the afternoon sun.

“What is it?”

“It’s happening.” Castiel’s stomach dropped.

“...Is this about - ?”

“The end of the world, yes.” 

-

The antichrist, Dean explained, had been given to the husband and wife who were both high ranking members of the United States government. When the boy grew into his power in just over a decade, Armageddon would follow. The end of… everything. 

Dean snorted. “Sounds like  _ The Omen  _ to me - government officials, really?” He had been entrusted with the delivery, a few ‘assistants’ ensuring the antichrist was given to the right family, their true baby taken away… wherever. That was as much as Castiel could make of the plan; their days had been quite stressful, and they were getting incredibly wasted on some very expensive whiskey that Castiel had stashed away in his pantry. 

“I can’t believe it - all of this, coming to an end,” Castiel said, morosely getting lost in the crystal tumbler he was holding.

“We have to do something,” Dean said abruptly, standing up and pacing. “We  _ can  _ do something.”

“Do what?”

“Stop the Apocalypse!” 

“We can’t -  _ I  _ can’t. It’s a point of non coten - co - I can’t do anything,” Castiel said miserably. 

“Why not?”

“It’s part of the - the plan. Destiny.” He pointed up. “And my bosses wouldn’t like it.”

“Michael’s always been a dickhead,” Dean agrees solemnly. “But so has  _ Lucifer.  _ Can you imagine?” He shuttered. “If Hell wins, obviously you’re caput - and then Hell, the place I’ve been trying to avoid for as long as possible, becomes the only game in town.”

“Heaven will win, we’re good,” Castiel says petulantly. He’s getting dangerously close to falling off his chair. 

“And then there will be nothing but the sound of harps and the friggin’  _ Sound of Music.  _ No more bacon cheeseburgers, Cas! Or movies or plays or new music.” 

Castiel shrugged a shoulder. “I guess.”

“No more humans. No more animals or plants or cool rock formations, either.” He frowned. “No new inventions, no cars, no wine… No more - this.” Castiel looked up from his glass, eyeing Dean’s heartbroken expression.

“Well, what could I even  _ do?”  _ He protested. “Kill him?” Dean winced. 

“I don’t know - he’s got all that demonic mojo on him, but… he’s still a kid.” A proverbial lightbulb went off above Dean’s head. “An almost human kid. And what do we know about humans?”

“They like wine?” Castiel asked, staring at the amber liquid in his glass until it morphed into a nice Malbec.

“No, featherbrain - they don’t listen to jack shit Heaven and Hell want them to do.” Castiel made a quick ‘cheers’ motion in agreement. “He’s not  _ born  _ bad, I don’t think. We could just, you know. Nudge him.”

“Nudge him,” Castiel replied dubiously.

“Yeah, just like any assignment we realize is a waste of time.” Ah yes, their Arrangement, as it were. Born out of laziness and the dawning realization that humans could enact moments of goodness and schemes of evil more efficiently than an agent of Heaven or Hell ever could, Dean and Castiel would swap or share assignments. It turns out it didn’t matter who did the tempting and who did the blessing, so long as it got done and the reports sent out on time. 

“You can’t really think it’ll be that easy.”

“Why not? I tempt him to be evil, you tempt him to be good. The angel and demon on his shoulder.” He winked. “When he grows up, he’ll just be… normal.”

“But what about Heaven -”

“Heaven wants you to do good - they might not like you messin’ with the anti-Christ, but they’re not gonna stop you. Come  _ on _ , Cas. It’s me or water cooler talk with Raphael for the rest of eternity.” Despite himself, Castiel scrunched his nose up at the thought. Raphael and he… did  _ not  _ get along. 

He looked up at Dean, the demon who he had walked the Earth with for so, so long. The one being in the universe he could truly call his  _ friend.  _

“Fine.” he said, drunkenly sitting up. “Let’s do it.” Dean grinned again. 

“It’s a deal?” he asked, sidling closer. Castiel eyed him for a moment, then sighed. 

“Yes, it’s a deal - mmph!” He got a lapful of a drunk demon for his trouble, a smoky, burning taste against his lips as they sealed the deal. “Could’ve done a handshake, you know,” Castiel muttered, even though his hands had gone to Dean’s waist to hold him steady on his new seat.

“No,” Dean said, black eyes glittering, “I really, really couldn’t.” 

  
  



End file.
